Paul’s mom died Monday evening. It happened after she and Norm enjoyed an episode of the Gilmore Girls.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Gilmore Girls. I could easily get sucked in.

I can see Mar sitting in her chair, smiling, laughing. Small pleasures! Enjoying that sarcastic wit dear Lorelai and Rory have down so well – that kind of mean banter funny only in sitcoms. 

Paul just told Trevor earlier that day, I need to go to Florida, my mom could go any day now.

We learned everybody was shocked when they heard the news, but not Paul. He had a feeling.

Paul told me a month or so ago, – I’m going to Florida in March, I don’t know how long I will be gone, I feel like I need to go. 
– Whatever you need to do. I’m sure your mom would be so happy to see you. Make sure you give her hugs for me, she will understand if I don’t join you. I was just looking at her Christmas card, she is so kind.

Yes, go, I need a break, some air. The energy in the house is dark and heavy. I wanna be alone, air out the house, my mind, my heart. Some part of me skipped out a while ago, and it’s not coming back til I get some space.

And I thought, I should see my mom, too. But I can’t just get on a plane and visit right now. I’ll have to wait til Covid is calmed down. Also, I can’t sit in quarantine for two weeks once I get to New York – I have too much stuff going on. I’m recording an album with my band, I am recording a workshop all by myself, and I’m making art, and I need to find another place to live. I need to figure out how to make some money, unemployment is almost over and there aren’t really jobs right now. And I don’t want to work for anybody else anyway, I really freakin’ don’t. 

And I’m terrified to get on a plane right now. 

I’m terrified to get on a plane right now. 

I’m terrified to get on a plane right now.

And as I write this my chest hurts. 

Monday night, at one o’clock in the morning (why was I still awake??), Paul got off the phone and I hugged him. He didn’t say anything for a while, and then finally asked me how I felt about flying to Florida. That’s a rhetorical question, right?

– What’s going on?
– My mom died.
– I’m sorry. 
– Death isn’t really the end, it’s just a change.

Two days before that, I dreamed I died, several times. And at each death, I wondered, what are we going to do with my body? 

Paul bought two one-way tickets. I was very concerned about one-way tickets. I was concerned about flying. I am concerned about flying. I want to know when I am coming home. I want some control. So I told him we don’t have to come home together, he can stay as long as he needs. I am hoping to return on Tuesday. Then I did two rounds of mala beads, one for me and one for Mar.

He booked the flights. Next day, I booked the wrong hotel. A Hilton, yes, but one in the bad neighborhood near the airport. Everything an extra fee. I am annoyed by those things, just put it in the cost – the parking, the shuttle. And the breakfast and evening refreshments they advertise online – no longer happening – not that I would have eaten any of it anyway. But, small comforts, it had a very bleach-filled hot tub that was nice, and the sheets were very bleached. The pillows.

My nasal passages burned a little, yawns incomplete. 

The wrong hotel turned into the right hotel after we were led on a series of coincidences connected to Mar. First, the hotel was one in a chain where Norm and Mar liked to stay in Flagstaff. The Mexican restaurant we walked to, and were the only customers at, was called Santo Mar (which means holy sea – but we translated it to be Saint Mar, because Paul’s mom really was a saint), the key to our room  had a slogan “It’s time to let me go” which made Paul laugh. I was in the room alone and kept seeing shapes out of the corner of my eye, so I said – ok, hi Mar – thanks for visiting. Protect little Sadie Sage (my car) while we are gone?

Rather than a shuttle, the hotel offered a town car, for safety. Ten dollar fee. And the airport was practically empty, food courts closed, social distancing and mask wearing everywhere. Ok, this isn’t so bad, I thought.

Flights sold out quickly. I explained to Paul that planes are only half full, so of course they are sold out. While waiting to board, the announcement came up, “We are at capacity. You can check your bags for free, we don’t have the space for all the baggage.”

What? 

Really?

Yup. Packed. Packed plane. Piled in. I chose a seat next to a healthy looking young woman. She was very nice. I thought I was going to vomit. Changeover at Denver – we ran. Another packed plane. Paul assured me that planes are safe – the air is safe. But for the last year, we have had different ideas about what’s safe, what’s real, what’s the truth, who won . . . 

– Oh yeah? So why do they actually make an over-the-counter immune-boosting concoction called Airborne that you take when flying? 
– Don’t think about it. 
– All these people, it doesn’t make sense.
– Don’t get me started. 
– So when they said half capacity, they meant half the flights, not half the people?
– Don’t get me started. 
– It doesn’t make sense.
– It’s not supposed to make sense. 

Pete picks us up at the airport. It’s good to see him. He’s a giggler. He has a nice king-sized bed for us. It feels good to sleep.

Next day, on the way to Norm’s house, Paul says that time feels weird whenever we come to Florida. I say – “There is something about the way Florida smells. The swamp. The humidity. It feels like eternity here. It’s primordial.”

I’m back in the soup.

Pete laughs.

February 20, 2021
Port Richey, Florida